Zoe Archives - wibbler.com

Well. Well well. I’ve barely put foot to ground in past week, but I’ll fill you in as best I can. Of course, there was the leaving do in Guildford on Friday night. The working day had finished with the traditional presentation – some bubbly, some cakes and a present – a suitable techy one that I’d hinted at the previous day. It was emotional – for so many times, I’d been the onlooker at leaving parties, laughing and joking, but today I was the centre of attention, and I’d no idea what to say. Really, what do you say? I mumbled on for a couple of minutes about the company being “a troublesome teenager, trying to grow up, dragging its heels but slowly getting up to speed”. It was the best I could do at short notice.
The leaving night was fun – a trip to the pub round the corner, where multiple shots were bought and an old colleague Ed even put in an appearance. And then off to a new Indian restaurant around the corner with Michelle and Zoe (and, MUCH later, Nick) for a hearty meal. It was a good night, and full of stories and images to fill the mental scrapbook – titled “My End of The Pier Story” or something equally witty.
And then, it was a long weekend of preparation for The New Job. I test drove four cars, visited the cricket-playing Nick in Cranleigh (he won, I think) and met up with Shunta and the pregnant Lucy. Sunday was… well, Sunday.
And then Monday. Monday Monday. I’ll save that for another post…

Oh, and WHAT a party it was last night. Elli’s sister Zoe kindly had a 21st birthday, an excuse we all immediately pounced on for a knees up. Once again, the Cowell residence did themselves proud, with neverending food, neverending champagne and almost neverending Pimms fueling some drunken goon-like dancing, women sporting particularly short skirts, and outrageous “happenings” on the outside bench. The highlight of the night was possibly when Jac fell asleep in the loudest room in the house, with the DJ pumping out classic after classic, and slowly but surely falling off his chair into a crumpled heap. His brand new ?500 dinner suit went down a storm, however, and he snogged for the second time in two days, breaking all previous records. Quite why this has happened we’re still trying to work out. “As it’s your 21st birthday,” I announced, “we thought we’d go for a gardening theme” somehow covered the fact that I was actually in a B & Q store when I suddenly remembered her birthday. Our customary stupid presents culminated in a bag of fresh moss and a garden hoe. Lucky, lucky girl, eh?

Quotes of the momentMe, after revealing a present: “You don’t want to get the hoe covered in earth. There’s nothing worse that having a dirty hoe on your conscience, believe me”, cunningly exploiting the Jerry Springer definition of ‘hoe’ to great effect.Jac, after being told he looked “dishy”: “I hope that’s not in the ceramic sense.”

Well, what a weekend! a BIRTHDAY weekend, to be precise. An enormous knees-up with subsidised drinks in Bar Zuka and The Drink with Michelle, Becki, Nick, Paul D and Tom, followed by a good old get-together in Cranleigh watching Sparky sing away splendidly, with Jac, Simon H, Shaun, Elli and Zoe. I am now recovering. And trying to get the photos online before I fall asleep.